


The What-ifs and Whys

by Anonymous



Category: Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
Genre: Controlling Society, Gen, No Spoilers, Overthinking, Prequel, References to Depression, Sleeping Pills, Substance Abuse, before the story, weight loss mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Mildred Montag before Montag. A stereotypical normal girl that everyone likes. A girl that starts thinking to much.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Pretty please read the tags, and if I need more tell me!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*When you get full marks on a school project and you want more people to see it.*
Kudos: 4
Collections: Anonymous





	The What-ifs and Whys

Mildred jumped at a loud buzz in her ear. She turned to see the screen on her wall had a message from her mother, Bethany. ‘Dinner’s ready!’ 

She sighed and removed herself from her homework-covered desk. It was time for the school-day questioning. The same questions, with the same answers. She walked down the stairs to see her parents already sitting at the table and the wall screens already on. The usual background noise of advertisements and the dinner time shows tickled her ears, but it wasn't loud enough to listen to. 

“Hey sweetheart, did you have a good day at school?” Bethany greeted her daughter like she did every night, plain and chipper. Mildred nodded and sat down in her spot across the table from her parents. Her father, Don, started to interrogate her as she picked up a fork. 

“Did you learn anything new?” 

“We learned about what jobs we could have when we grew up since we’re juniors now.” 

“What kind of jobs?” 

“Firemen, newsperson, teacher, things like that.” 

“Have you decided what you want to do?” That question made Mildred pause. She had been asked that question so many times today, and she still didn’t have an answer. She looked up at her parents, who waited patiently for her response. Their forever smiles forced a mirrored smile on her own face. 

“I haven’t decided. But-” 

“That’s fine honey, you’ll know soon.” 

“That’s fine Mildred. You’ll know soon.” Her teacher. The same line. The same way. 

“I had a question for you.” 

“Of course.” Bethany and Don didn't stop eating to listen. Mildred turned her questions in her head before filtering them through her well-regulated filter. 

“Why do I need to work? Why do I need to do something everyone else is doing? Could I be... different?” Shrill laughs overfilled her already thought-filled head. 

“Why would you want to be different? Those are perfectly fine jobs, you’ll be fine. One will just click with you.” Don almost made a mess with his giggles as Bethany was barely able to talk. 

“One will just click with you.” The same line. The same way. Mildred nodded, leaving the conversation there. 

“There was one more thing we wanted to bring up with you.” Bethany calmed down quickly and fully swallowed her bite, setting her fork down. Mildred copied her, setting down her fork and clearing her mouth. “I know how much you like your hair, but you have to do it still, the hair machine can’t do it for you.” 

“I know. I don’t mind doing my hair.” Her hair almost reached her waist. The machine that filled half the bathroom was only made for a couple different hair lengths out of convenience. Most models only had two types, just past shoulder length, like Bethany, or stylishly short, like Don’s. 

“But it would be so much easier if you cut it. I would think about it. Especially since you miss the Yellow show every day.” They let the conversation die after that. Her father pressed a button on the table, and the voices in the wall grew louder until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts. It was nice. 

She went up to her room to get ready for bed. Without the screens and the voices, questions flowed uninterrupted through her head. 

‘What’s stopping me from not getting a job?’ She thought while her automated toothbrush attacked her gums. ‘Why do I need to change my hair?” She thought as she changed into more comfortable clothes. “Why can’t they just make a new machine?” She said while she took the time to brush her hair. The machine dug holes into her back. 

These questions went through her head, not all of them making sense, none of them having answers. Normally, she would be fast asleep by the time her mother checked in on her around 2100, but when the door opened, Mildred saw her mother make a weird face before saying good night. 

The next nights followed a similar routine. Ask questions, get no answers, get ready for bed, lay there for too long. Her sleep suffered in time with her thoughts, but they tickled at her until she focused on them. Whys eventually turned into what-ifs. 

‘What if I’m just not good enough. That’s why I need to change my hair.’ ‘What if I just ran away from the jobs. Then I wouldn’t have to choose.’ 

Over the course of the next month, Mildred’s face went from lively and healthy, to tired and thin. Her sleep schedule went from losing only an hour, to losing two, three, and four hours every night. It was driving her crazy. She put on a smile to counteract the dark circles under her eyes. Every so often, she would try and get more answers out of her parents: 

“Hey mom? What’s your job again?” Mildred walked up behind her mother, who sat on the couch to watch the tv screens. 

“I’m actually working right now. I review the shows that come on.” The screens that took up the top half of all the walls played dark scenes with bright flashes of color. 

“What are you going to rate this one?” Loud bangs and crashes filled the room before Bethany could respond. 

“Great!” 

“Why?” 

This made Bethany stop a second. She turned towards her daughter with a weird look in her eye. “Because I want to. I don’t need a reason. I think it’s a great show.” She quickly waved her hand to change the subject. “You know, you could do this for a living. It’s really easy, and I make decent enough money.” Decent enough money? Mildred could ask for the moon and it would be on her doorstep in a day. Especially since radiomen don’t exactly make much money. Instead of agreeing with her mother, Mildred just walked away. She was too tired to deal with this. 

Soon, her parents had caught on to her quickly diminishing weight and dark circles under her oak-colored eyes. They were eating dinner one night, and Don turned the background noise the bangs and crashes off. The sudden change in sound startled Mildred, causing her to drop her fork on her plate. The loud ring was less unsettling than the silence, and she was thinking about doing it again before her father spoke up. 

“How have you been feeling lately, Mildred?” The girl in question looked up at her parents to see them sitting with their hands folded neatly in front of them. 

‘What do I tell them?” Mildred panicked on the inside, but she kept looking at the wall behind her parents. ‘Thinking isn’t bad. It’s the questions that might be. But they’re my parents. I can tell them everything.’ Mildred sighed in relief that one of her thoughts had an answer. She shifted in her seat and steeled herself to tell them. 

“I...” Where did her sentence go? “I haven’t been sleeping.” Bethany nodded, concerned, while her father’s eye roll said, ‘That’s obvious.’ “I think... well that’s it.” Her parents matching eyes searched for an explanation. “I’ve been thinking so much I can’t sleep.” 

"Thinking!?" Don exclaimed. It was as if he had never dealt with the pestering thoughts. Like he never lost sleep over the what-ifs and whys. "How do you lose sleep over thinking!?" Bethany put a hand on her husband's shoulder to comfort him. 

Her mother then turned to her and sighed; her small smile made Mildred nervous. “Well, if you can’t sleep, then there’s an easy fix to that. I’ll call in an appointment for you.” Don nodded in agreement and picked up his fork, clearly done with the conversation. 

‘Aren’t they going to ask me what I've been thinking about?’ She was about to speak up, ask more questions, when she was silenced by the sound of crashes and bangs. She reached over and turned up the volume, a few ticks above too loud. 

Mildred sat at her vanity; a pill bottle full to the brim on sleeping pills in front of her. The label and the doctor told her to take one 30 minutes before bed, and she’ll be asleep in no time. “We’ve had to readjust the dosage and distribution with how high the demand is. This makes it the cheapest.” The pharmacist had told her that in passing. Now that she thought about it, some people were saying a girl named Shirley Phelps took sleeping pills now. 

That doctor’s visit was filled to the brim with more questions. Every sentence the man told her added another minute lost to thoughts. 

“You’re losing weight, that’s good. You were creeping up a little too high on the scale. I would keep that up if I were you.” 

‘What told you it was creeping up too high? I felt fine then.’ 

“If you plan to go into any of the jobs in that pamphlet I gave you, I'll need you to cut that long hair of yours. It’ll get into the way, and besides, there’s no machine to do your hair for you when it’s this long.” 

‘Again with my hair? I really don’t mind brushing it.’ 

She took a single pill and took it with a glass of water next to her. Now to wait thirty minutes for sleep. 15 minutes passed. 30 minutes passed. 1 hour passed. 2 hours passed. She laid the same way she laid every night. Flat on her back, staring at the blank ceiling, lost in thought. Her head started to hurt with all the half-thought-out answers and cut off questions. Sometimes, random, but welcome, thoughts pop between the tiring ones: ‘I should put a screen on my ceiling.’ Like every night, she eventually fell asleep, only to be woken up by her shrill alarm 2 hours later. 

‘Let’s try this again.’ For the last 2 weeks, Midred followed the doctor’s instructions and only took one pill. It never worked. Tonight, it was going to work. Mildred took one pill and waited 30 minutes. She watched the brand-new screen on her ceiling and saw the clock in the corner count the minutes. 1...5...10...20...30... She felt tired, exhausted. But if she closed her eyes, they would beg and whine in pain to be open again. She tapped out another pill from the orange bottle and took it. 1...5...10...20...30... Her eyes could close without protest, but her body wouldn’t shut down all the way for a little longer. She gained an hour of sleep that night. 

This pattern went on until Mildred’s 17th birthday. Her days were filled with loud tv screens and big blue pills. Two pills worked for a while, but three got her more sleep. Four worked even better, five better still. She went back to the doctor often, leaving with a full bottle of big blue pills every time. She started helping her mom with her job, watching the loud bangs, startling crashes, and flashing colors. 

“So, Mildred, did you finally decide what job you’re going to do for a living?” She nodded and stood up. 

“I’m going to review tv shows, giving the trustworthy reviews so other viewers get the most satisfaction,” Mildred repeated what the ad for the job told her. The same stance, the same tone, the same gaze. She sat at her teacher’s praise. 

Back at her vanity, all she saw was empty prescription bottles, which were displayed like trophies in front of the mirror, and the girl in the mirror itself. 

‘I wonder if I’ll be happy.’ 

Mildred reflexively took a fresh bottle and downed a handful of capsules, not counting how many she took. Ready for the medicine to kick in, she went to her bathroom to brush her teeth, only to see a pair of scissors and a note on the counter. 

‘I thought you might need these. -Dad’ 

She looked closer at the machine behind her, running a hand over the smooth, silver finish. She looked at her hair in the mirror, grabbed the scissors, and lined the blade with her shoulder. 

_Snip._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this random thing I had to do for a grade :)  
> Any feedback is appreciated  
> The point of the project was to make a backstory for any character we already knew about. We were in the middle of the book so all we knew of was Montag, Mildred, and Clarisse (I think). We also had to tie it into one of the main plots of the book. Mildred + the first time we see her = whatever this is.


End file.
